


Broken

by Winga



Series: (Kinda) prompted [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, and others too, sad!, well okay all the weasleys yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winga/pseuds/Winga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George doesn't really even want to be there, let alone give a speech. That'll just make Fred's death so much more real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> 'cause I was begging for prompts on tumblr, I got "write Fred's funeral". So yeah.

George was looking at the people attending the funeral. He knew his mother wanted him to give a speech and he knew he probably should - he’d known Fred better than anyone. He was unsure if he could do it, if he wanted to do it (he knew his voice would break into tears).

He knows people are watching him. His family the most. His mother is on the verge of breaking but she keeps calm, shows that all is under control. She’s always been the grounding force in their family. His father looks so lost and he knows there will be tears later on. The fight is strong, for now.

He can see Ron sitting with Hermione and he can see her hand holding his tightly. He knows Ron will soldier on, that Hermione will whisper into his ears when it all gets too much and that Ron will break when they’re alone. He wishes he had someone there, but Fred was the closest to him, still feels like he’s there and he would be lulled into that if it wasn’t for it being Fred’s funeral.

He wishes so even more as he looks past Ron, sees Ginny with Harry, sees tears in his little sister’s eyes, in the eyes that usually show nothing but fight. She’s not even trying to hide it and he knows that if she was to look at him at this moment, she would just nod at him and understand him, but not in the way Fred used to. Harry tries to comfort Ginny, George can tell it, but it doesn’t look like he’s having as much luck as Hermione with Ron.

George closes his eyes for a moment, hears someone speaking soft words about Fred but doesn’t want to concentrate. Instead, he looks for Bill, Bill who’s with Fleur, Bill who’s strong but who seems so old now, next to Fleur who’s leaning into Bill, letting him feel in control, when George knows that’s not the situation with them.

He sighs and yearns for Fred to come back, turning towards Charlie and Percy, brothers who’re discovering each other again, who are counting on each other. They’re working out their differences in real life, but here they are united, they don’t care about things they disagree on.

George knows that if he went to any of his family, they’d tell him that he’s free to talk to them, that he should talk to them. That they know he was inseparable with Fred, still feels the ghost of his brother (not literal) hanging around.

He knows he’s been called up when Charlie turns to look at him with a sad smile. When Percy looks at him with a look that says sorry. When everyone looks at him, his dad patting his shoulder. Slowly, he gets up and makes his way up front, wondering if someone asked Harry to speak too. Probably did, good publicity.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here," George begins and sighs, looking at the coffin where his brother is hidden. "Fred was, as all you probably know, or at least those who matter know, he was my twin brother and he was my partner in crime and business, too. Fred was the closest of my family to me, and he was always smiles and horrible puns, he was always sunshine and mischief. He was just as much as I was, and together we were the terrors of everyone."

He takes a deep breath and looks around the people in the room. He can see some fidgeting, knows those aren’t people he cares for, people who care(d) for Fred.

"I still feel him. I feel him be here and somewhere inside my head I wish it had been me or both of us, rather than just one part of us. I feel some mischief missing, feel a part has gone, but maybe he really did go to a better place, as they like to say. And I know his dead wasn’t in vain. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it had been someone else."

He could feel, slowly, his voice breaking, and he saw the tears forming in his mother’s eyes, in his father’s. In all his siblings. He knew they had all been thinking, hoping, none of their own would die in the war. So many had.

"I’m so sorry it had to be him that died," he added, his voice cracking, and he left for his place, next to his father. He didn’t care who was speaking after him. He didn’t listen to anything, just let his parents guide him when they were leaving.

As he went to bed that night, he wished Fred knew how he felt. Knew how he missed, how they all did.


End file.
